Angel's Fear
by Mirowood
Summary: A vengeful young warrior is called upon by the mana goddess. Is he man enough to accept her quest? Rated PG-13 for violence. Please R
1. Meridian Child

Angel's Fear Chapter I 

Meridian Child

Sweat poured over his body; he slipped on his gloves and pulled the sword out of its sheathe. He looked over the blade and gave a smile, which the blade reflected upon him. After he secured his helm he kicked the door open. The light was blinding, the crowd was deafening. He recognized his people and made his way to the tournament grounds. He saw that the grounds had been cleaned; he must have made it to the finals. The trumpets blared and King Richard's voice roared over them.

"Countrymen, welcome to the championship match. Please do not hold your applause for Duran, son of Loki and the man simply known as The Bruiser," roared the King. Duran shot a glance at his competition. He saw the need for the name: the guy was enormous. It didn't matter to him, though; the big guy was going to be lying on the ground afterwards, anyway. The field judge called for the match to begin. The man-mountain made his charge, swinging his mace around like he was trying to swat down a mosquito. Duran smirked and spat in Bruiser's path. Bruiser then raised his mace in a high arc. Duran was still smiling. The big man brought it down like a hammer. Duran raised his sword, blocking the attack and countering with a broad slice, knocking the mace out of his hands. Bruiser's eyes popped out of their sockets. The big lug groped for his weapon, only to find a remarkably shiny slab of steel in front of his face. Bruiser's face shuddered and he broke into tears. Duran had to fight back a chuckle as Bruiser curled up into a ball before him.

"Please don't kill me!" pleaded the large, yet insignificant man.

"Don't worry I won't," replied Duran as he walked beside his former competition.

"You, you mean it?" said Bruiser with a hint of relief.

"Nope," Duran replied as he sent his hilt crashing down upon Bruiser's empty skull.

"This match has ended, the victor of the King's Tourney is Duran," King Richard shouted over the roar of the crowd. Duran took one last look at the heap of a man that he led left on the battlefield, and began his stride to the king. Duran graciously accepted his prize; 750,000 Luc was not easy to come by in this age, especially in his line of work. Duran bowed to King Richard, who then offered a him a position as one of the King's royal guard, the legendary Knights of Gold. Duran declined the offer; he would be following his father. As Duran left the king's presence, he was accosted by the other Forcenian Knights who whisked him off to the armory for the post-tournament festivities. It wasn't exactly his idea of the ideal return to his hometown--not that there's anything wrong with a keg of honey drink and a bunch of dancing girls. Several hours later the festivities ended with all the knights returning back to their posts, despite the fact that they were generally inebriated. Duran was no exception, he wasn't returning home for free. He looked at his shift relief in disgust, whatever happened to the proud, alert and well spoken for knights of Forcena? He couldn't believe that the knight was leaving just to get a drink: no wonder the king was hiring mercenaries. But he could feel his limbs grow weaker as he became more and more drowsy; not able to fight it any longer he let sleep take hold. Deep within in his mind he struggled with the last memories of his mother and that last disappointed look his Aunt Stella and sister Wendy gave as he stormed out of the family home to become a mercenary. Then as the memories of his father appeared before him he began to come to. As he awoke he cursed at himself for falling asleep on assignment. However, something didn't seem right about the whole situation. Grasping his sword's hilt in preparation he surveyed his surroundings. Within a few steps he kicked an empty mug; a few feet away from the mug lay the corpse of his relief. Glancing upward he saw that all the guards along the wall had met the same fate. He scrambled to the other guards to check to see if there was any trace of a pulse…none. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw a crimson flicker. As he gave chase he saw what looked like a cape float through one of the doors. Duran, calling to the mana goddess for speed, charged through the door and down the hallway. Duran opened up the last door and finally got a glimpse of his foe. The one-man-army was a blonde man with a deep crimson robe, a deeper crimson hue than normal since being stained with the blood of innocent soldiers.

"Halt!" yelled Duran at the man in crimson.

"Is that all that you guys can say?" replied the crimson invader mockingly.

"Who the hell are you?" forcibly inquired Duran, pulling out his sword to make a point.

"Why should I answer to vermin like you?" said the man in crimson casually, obviously ignoring the sword.

"Why you smug bastard!" fumed Duran. That last comment was over the top; he had to cut him down. Duran charged at the invader, putting any caution to the wind. Duran lifted his blade over his head. The crimson invader yawned. Duran brought the blade down in a mighty slice, which would have easily split a boulder… only to find that he was striking air.

"Hmmm, King Richard really must be slipping, hiring children for guards, how utterly amusing." Chuckled the mysterious man. Duran whirled around. "How the hell did he do that? I had my eyes on him the whole time and he's suddenly behind me," thought Duran. Well either way he couldn't possibly do it again. Duran charged again this time keeping his eyes focused on his opponent. He slashed again…nothing.

"You do realize your wasting your time don't you?" glared the somehow amazingly agile invader. "Either way I don't have time for you. FIRE BALL!" Duran gave the mysterious man a confused look, which slowly shifted into frightened awe as the man in the red cloak's hand turned the shade of his cloak. From out of nowhere three large fireballs materialized in front of him. Duran tried to flee only to find that the flaming projectiles had flanked him. The pain was unbearable and he could smell his scorching flesh. He gazed up at the now obvious mage and could only think one thing. "What a cheap shot."

"Hmm… you're a little stronger than I thought. I guess I have a good reason to end your life now." "ICE SMASH!" yelled the red mage as he lifted his left hand. The mage's hand glowed with a cold blue light. Duran gritted his teeth in expectation of the forthcoming pain. It was worse than he could ever have imagined. The pain was easily doubled since the shards were stuck in his already badly burnt skin. But Duran wouldn't give up with the last strength in his body he slowly raised from the stone floor.

"So you still won't die. I guess I might as well seal you away forever. EVIL GA…" the mage's spell was cut off by the arrival of the Knights of Gold. The mage scanned the exorbitantly armored guards. "Well since the advanced guard has appeared it's time for me to take my leave, but with such little security Forcena will fall soon enough." The mage gloated. With a quick swiping motion of his hands he faded away into the darkness. Duran tried to pursue the invader, yet his feet failed him. His eyes soon followed.

Duran awoke to a nostalgia trip. His room hadn't changed at all since he had left. The sword catalogue was still lying on the dresser. His clothes from the day before he left were still piled up by the closet door. His wounds still ached, magic was not a force to take lightly. He cursed the mage; he'd never been bested in battle before. He had to settle the score with this madman, whoever he may be. He had to get stronger by any means necessary. He threw the covers out of the way and jumped out of bed, only to be swiftly reminded by his burnt legs that he was still injured.

"You're just like your father." Muttered his Aunt as she saw Duran sprawled out on the floor. Aunt Stella wasted no time in getting her battle worn nephew back into bed. Duran protested his aunt's concern but she was relentless. The swordsman eventually gave up and accepted a bowl of chicken soup from his little sister Wendy. A week or so later, Duran was able to move just enough to escape from the never ceasing care of his family. Duran took advantage of his regained mobility and decided to limp his way to the local tavern. He had to find out some information about his assailant. The place was still buzzing with rumors even a week after the invasion. Duran sat in on several conversations only to find that the general populous was just as clueless as he was. After at least three drinks he decided that it was about time to start to trek home, before Aunt Stella sends out a search party to find out why he wasn't still in bed. On his way home he encountered a sign pointing to a little shop near the library. The sign indicated that the shop was a fortune telling business. Duran was willing to take any lead he could find so he walked up to the front door. Inside of the shop an ancient looking woman sat behind the counter.

"Hello young sir, is there any I can assist you with this evening?" asked the old woman with her most cordial yet businesslike tone.

"Yes, the sign outside says this a fortune telling shop. I'd like to have my fortune told." Duran answered baffled by that fact that she would ask something that obvious.

" Well, let's see here," she said as she pulled out a large scroll from behind the counter. " I offer a variety of fortunes: crystal ball, palm reading, rune reading, aroma…." She would have continued further if Duran hadn't interrupted her.

" I'll take whatever you want, I just need some advice." Stated Duran before he was overwhelmed with options.

" As you wish young sir, I was getting thirsty anyway." Said the old woman with some relief as she fetched a large teapot out of a nearby cupboard. "Ah yes I'm assuming you can afford this, It's only 25,000 Luc. Duran rifled through his pockets to try to find his tournament winnings. He found the bag and looked into it with dismay. Between this and the drinks from the bar, he wouldn't be able to afford that giant claymore that he saw in the sword catalogue. Sighing, he resigned himself to the fact that as steep as it was it was worth it. When the tea was finally done, she took the pile of gold pieces in advance. The tea was refreshingly warm, though slightly bitter. It didn't matter to him though.

" What is it that you seek young sir? Asked the old fortuneteller as they drank their tea.  
" I seek power to defeat a new foe." Replied Duran.

" I hope you did not drink too deeply." Said the old woman after Duran finished. "Now please hand me your cup." Duran did so without hesitation. The old woman put her finger to the rim of the cup and muttered an incantation. The mercenary noticed no change to the cup. The old fortuneteller looked down into Duran's cup with a look of satisfaction.

" What you seek is in Wendel, the great priest knows of the art of class changing. Through class changing one can attain unlimited power." Replied the old fortuneteller in her most mysterious voice. Duran was overwhelmed with excitement, so much so that he leaped onto the counter. He also knocked off the fortuneteller's prized teapot. The fortuneteller looked at the shattered teapot in shock, fuming with anger she grabbed a staff from behind the counter and smashed it against Duran's injured leg.

" It took me twenty years to find that pot, now get out of my shop before I REALLY break that leg of yours." Wailed the old fortuneteller. Duran hastily retreated. He knew better than to incur the wrath of a woman especially after having lived with his aunt and sister. He mulled over the fortuneteller's words, if this unlimited power could be gained through class changing, running a sword through the arrogant mage's hide would not only be possible but enjoyable. When Duran finally reached his house he decided it was best to sneak into the house, he didn't want to see his aunt's piercing stare when he told her that he was leaving once again. He slowly slid the door open. Aunt Stella's snores echoed through the house, if Duran had any chance of escaping his family with his life intact, now was the time. The steps groaned as Duran attempted to sneak up to his room. When he reached his room (still undetected) he hurriedly gathered what he needed for the long road ahead. He slipped on his armor as silently as could be achieved in this situation and with a few convictions muttered under his breath, grabbed his most prized possession. He then decided to quickly search the drawers for some sword polish. When he inspected the drawer he found the polish, yet he also found that his copy of Chicks in Chainmail had been pilfered, not like it really mattered though. The steps threatened to break beneath him as he tried to return downstairs. When the swordsman was finally outside he pulled out his sword and examined the blade. He saw his house reflected on the sword's shiny surface. Duran wondered when he could ever return home.

"Oh Duran." Echoed a familiar voice behind him. Aunt Stella was standing in the doorway. Duran turned around and faced his fate, expecting the worst. " I knew that this day would come eventually." She said soothingly pulling a sword from behind her. " This used to belong to your father, he used it when he defeated King Richard at the King's Tourney." Duran took the old sword. It had seen better days yet holding it put him at ease.

"Thank you Auntie, I apologize but I won't be able to return for quite a while." He said with a newfound confidence in his heart.

"Don't worry, I won't tell your sister anything about your quest, it's better that way." Said his aunt fighting back a few tears. They embraced one last time and Duran took one final glance at the family home. The next morning, Duran had taken the next ship to Jad.


	2. Beastly Ambition

Angel's Fear

Disclaimer: I do not own Seiken Densetsu III, Squaresoft or any other minor companies or people associated with the release of said game. This is a fanfiction which will never be published.

Chapter II

Beastly Ambition

It was a long journey. Being a mercenary he had been used to trips like these, but then he had prepared beforehand with a sword encyclopedia that he could read during the voyage. On this ship Duran realized that he could only polish a sword so many times. He felt like he had a chance to alleviate his boredom when the crew allowed him to help out on deck. If anything it would at least give him a chance to flex his muscles. He couldn't face off against the crimson mage without being on top of his game physically. The swordsman got his much needed exercise through the work but after several weeks of tying, swabbing, listening to sailor gossip and eating incredibly stale sea biscuits it was safe to assume that he had taken mariner off of his list of preferable career opportunities. Might it also be safe to add that there was something about being up in the crow's nest that made Duran terribly uneasy. Then at last the day came when he could finally get himself off of that goddess-forsaken tugboat. Duran gathered everything together in his satchel and made sure that both of his swords were well secured on his back. He made his way to the front deck and began to carefully make his way down the narrow plank that the crew had laid out. As the mercenary began to take his first step onto dry land something caught his eye. A tan blur which he just slowly began to make out as a human figure when it collided into him. The shock launched Duran back onto the ship, whilst the blur that had now transfigured itself into a lithe young man bounced into the harbor.

"Just when I thought I'd get off of this bloody ship." The swordsman growled to himself, returning to his feet he gazed toward the ripples in the water. "You alright down there." He called into the drink. He expected the man to resurface but as the seconds rolled on it became more and more apparent that this was not to be. Shrugging it off as merely a chance to get some directions he plunged into the brine. The waters of Jad harbor were incredibly murky; Duran had no interest in acquiring the reason. He followed the trail of bubbles down to where the youth lay submerged. The youth was clad in a definitively foreign robe, which seemed suitable for one living in a desert. The swordsman locked his hands around the desert dweller and began swimming to the surface. This feat was made much more difficult considering the fact that he had forgotten to remove his armor before diving. Breaching the surface Duran took a few minutes to regain his breath and then began swimming toward shore. As soon as he laid the desert dweller on the pavement he began to sputter.

"Hey, are you okay?" Duran asked, relieved by the fact didn't have to administer CPR to a man.

"Round…Drop." Muttered the nomad in between coughs.

"Sure thing, just a moment." Duran said as he rummaged through his satchel. While he was doing so he could have sworn that the burden on his back had somehow become lighter.

"Here it is, just remember to watch where you're go…" Duran turned to find that the man had suddenly disappeared. He scratched his head in thought and reached for his sword, only to find that it had been extracted from its sheath. He almost drowned trying to save the life of a thief. But fortunately the bandit didn't take both of the swords. Duran unsheathed his father's sword and scanned the blade. To put simply, it had seen better days. The blade was extremely dull, as if it were sharpened on leather instead of a grinding wheel. Even the nicks in the blade, which might have been useful in reopening wounds, had rounded edges. It was more of a club than a sword. Disappointed, with the recent turn of events he resigned himself to the fact that he could always buy another one. Even though no sword in his honest opinion could replace that little death bringer that he had bought with his military college fund. He walked toward the gate taking notice of two gigantic men guarding it. But could they really be called men? No man he had ever seen had that much that much hair. Looking even closer he could see that they their faces were stretched forward much like that of a wolf. Their masses made the massive figure of that Bruiser chap that he bloodied up back in the tourney resemble a dwarf. Duran would have made further deductions to what exactly was the identity of this fierce looking race if it wasn't for the fact that he had stopped awkwardly in the middle of the gate and was being glared at by the werewolfish guards. Regaining his focus to the issue of being unarmed he set his sights on the nearby weapons shop. Duran gazed at his surroundings, it was a small town completely surrounded by the walls of the castle. Duran assumed that the citizens had bought into a false sense of security, considering the fact the there wasn't any apparent sign of a struggle. He began to wonder if the gate into the castle was always left wide open. Either way it appeared that the Beastmen were relishing there little conquest. Lugar, commander of the Army of United Beasts had no problem rallying his troops to hold minor victory marches throughout the main square. A short five-minute walk later he reached the blacksmith shop. Rechecking to make sure that the thief that he encountered hadn't swiped his wallet he regarded the merchant behind the counter.

"WHAAAAT! What do you mean you have no weapons!" Duran shouted at the man behind the counter.

"Sorry sir, but the Beast Army has confiscated all of my blades." Said the merchant calmly even though he could tell he was missing out on a valued sucker, err customer.

"What about knives, you've gotta have at least some kind of knife." Duran pleaded, "A dirk, dagger, switchblade, butter knife, anything." All of his options met with the owner's shaken head. Duran turned away from the counter and retreated into his thoughts. His mind seethed with curses, how could he possibly expect to go against the scarlet wizard without a sword. The whole thought of beating the mage into the ground with his father's "club of righteousness" while amusing was pretty unlikely. But today he had a new enemy, the Army of United Beasts. They would pay dearly for interfering in his quest. His plotting then reached a sudden end when he noticed that one of the nearby bookshelves was shaking slightly. Duran crept closer to the bookcase, within moments analyzing that there was definitely something wriggling behind it. The recently disarmed swordsman had a mind to smite whatever lay behind it with his heel. He gripped the corner of the shelf and with a quick motion toppled it. Amid the cloud of dust and the shop owner's calls for compensation Duran expected to find the vermin. The rat he had sought to crush beneath his grieves wasn't even a rat at all, it was a man. But that overgrown hair was present however, it was another Beastman.

"Gah, please don't hurt Kevin!" the Beastman wailed, his arms quaking with fear. There was something odd about this Beastman, Duran thought to himself. Even though he had the wolfen hair and ears, the mercenary noticed that there he didn't seem to have any claws. That and with harmless looking eyes like those there was no way that he could see him killing anybody or anything for that matter.

"Do you know the commander?" Duran asked down toward the cowardly Beastman, mulling over whether or not he should spare his fists.

"Yes, Kevin knows him. But Kevin can't be seen in this form, not now." Kevin said drawing further and further into the corner. Duran averted his glance from the pathetic halfling and began making steps toward the door. Once outside the gears in his head started turning again. Should his aim be towards the removal of the commander or should he take the time to dispatch every single soldier in the Beast Army? While the former option was much more practical, the latter could not be ignored. The thrill of destroying an entire army would be a great way to start off his quest for vengeance and the way he was feeling then he honestly thought he could succeed. He was so carried away with these vengeful thoughts that he failed to realize where he was going and collided into something large and hairy.

"Hey you, watch where yer goin." Grunted the Beastman toward the angry little warrior that he had just knocked over. Duran smiled a smile that wasn't even attempting to mask its malice. Apparently Plan B was about to set itself into motion. "What're you smiling like that for? Ya looking for a fight?" the beast soldier said returning a grin.

"Just bring it, you freak." Duran glared back at the soldier, waving his thumb in front of his face in a threatening gesture. The Beastman curled back in preparation to strike. Duran braced himself and placed his fists in plain sight. They were the only true weapons he owned. The Beastman lunged forward his massive fists aimed directly for Duran's face. Duran brought his arms up blocking the thrust, praising in his mind the fact that he remembered to wear his armor. If he hadn't the strike would have easily killed him. At this point he began to notice his one disadvantage. His arms were too short. Well, they weren't exactly stubby but compared to the behemothesque span of the average Beastman; his were nothing to get excited about. But he couldn't give up because of some minor shortcoming like that. Duran fired several quick jabs into the beast soldier's horrendously ugly mug, doing little but aggravate the beast. He needed something more powerful and quick, considering that it was only a matter of time before those monstrous beast arms started swinging again. The Beastman dropped his guard, if there was time to strike this was it. Duran opted for a strong hook. He curled his fist back and shot it forward. It caught empty air. The Beastman had already ducked and was preparing for his next strike. The aforementioned strike being a head butt. The beast soldier's head slammed into Duran's skull. His vision swam, he was stunned and was unable to anticipate or even attempt to block an uppercut that followed. The attack sent Duran skyward in the direction of a nearby stairwell. His body bounced off the top step and continued bouncing, hitting every step on the way down. When he finally reached the bottom stair with a sickly thud his world faded to black.

It was a familiar scene, a little too familiar. He had someway found a way inside of his house but it seemed really large. Duran looked around, it looked so much like how he used to remember it, before that day… It couldn't be. Duran decided to look from his surroundings to himself. He was small, wearing children's clothes, just like that day. His mother emerged from the kitchen holding several plates.

"Wait a second, my mother's dead but she's alive here, I'm small. It can't be, can it?" Duran thought as Aunt Stella walked down the staircase. Duran briefly gazed at her. She was holding Wendy, who was still an infant. Suddenly a knock came from the door. Duran's mother answered the call and opened the door confirming Duran's fear. He was trapped in his worst memory. A heavily scarred Prince Richard emerged from the door with two Knights of Gold at his side. His father wasn't present.

"Simone, may I have a word?" asked the crown prince trying to hold his burden.

"Surely, what is it my lord? She responded even though by the look that crossed her face hinted that she already knew.

"Your husband, Sir Loki…. is dead." The prince said with a heavy heart. The prince then pulled out the fallen knight's golden helm from beneath his cloak. Duran doubled back from the wave of emotion felt through the room. It was too painful, but he knew that the worst was yet to come. "In our last battle we cornered the Dragon Emperor before a vast precipice." The prince continued. "The enemy sacrificed his soul to summon a gigantic beast. Loki knowing that he would not survive leaped into the fray. He fought valiantly until the end where he and the emperor fell into the never-ending pit never to resurface." The prince ended his account in memoriam. "I'm truly sorry."

"It's okay, I'm sure he wouldn't have had it any other way." Trying to hold back a torrent of grieving tears she grabbed her fallen husband's helm and started slowly treading toward the kitchen. She then stopped abruptly; her body seizing up as she dropped the helm. The sound of her collapse echoed the clang of the helm. Aunt Stella rushed to her aid along with the Prince. Within a few moments they helped Duran's mother into her bed. Duran rushed his young body over to the bedside, He really didn't want to be any closer to the harsh reality but he was trapped.

"Simone, are you all right?" The prince called to the widow as she regained her consciousness.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." She responded. The Prince took her word and left. Stella moved closer to the bedside.

"Sis, what were you thinking, allowing for your illness to get this bad."? Aunt Stella asked highly concerned by her sister's actions.

"I had to, or else he would have never left." She said quietly. "Now I can finally be near him again." The hand that she pressed to Stella's cheek fell limp at the bedside.

"No, MOM!" Duran cried. He couldn't believe he'd lost her again. He had to escape from this nightmare. He had to wake up. With a great surge of will power he opened his eyes. His vision met with a young blond woman standing over him.

"I see you've finally come to." Sighed the girl with some relief.

"Ugh, Where am I?" groaned Duran while he tried to identify his new surroundings.

"You're still in Jad, even though considering how long you've slept I would have thought you'd gone onto the other world." She blushed though Duran couldn't seem to grasp the reason why. "You were in awful shape whenever I dragged you here, that beast must given you quite a hard time." She started trailing off, Duran lost his train of thought slightly when his mind suddenly registered that she was rather stunning. She had long blond hair held back in a green ribbon; he assumed that it must be her color considering that her cuirass of was of that exact shade of emerald. Speaking of that cuirass, Duran would have sworn that it was molded directly to her skin. But then his gaze shifted to the large pike that she grasped in her left hand. A woman in arms and from what it looked like an amazon. She might just be his type, he considered in his mind but then his mind drifted to all those painful failed attempts back in Forcena. Any Forcenian could easily tell that Duran was NOT a ladies man.

"Um…miss I didn't get your name, could I ask what it is? Duran asked attempting to be suave but failing entirely.

"Oh, It's Lise." The amazon replied, feeling just as awkward as the man she had just saved.

"What um… brings you to Jad, Lise?" asked trying to find some common link.

"I'd rather not talk about it. What about you?" Lise returned.

"I'm on a quest for revenge; a man in a crimson robe hath stolen my honor." Duran voiced this in a more dramatic tone to make his quest sound nobler.

"With a sword like that?" the blond haired amazon commented pointing to the club.

"No with my other sword, if I ever get it back." Duran muttered bitterly.

"Good luck." Lise responded nonchalantly. "By the way have you seen my brother? The amazon cut back in suddenly.

"Your what?" Duran responded in a state of confusion.

"My brother, Elliot. He stands about this tall, has blond hair. Have you seen him? Lise asked making proper hand gestures to get her point across.

"Can't say that I have, sorry." Duran answered in complete honesty.

"It's alright, It'll just make my quest even longer." With that she left his side. He'd failed again. He could just hear all the jeers from the other Forcenian knights. Was that the reason why he became a mercenary in the first place? After moments like that he began to wonder. Getting out of his bed he made his way to the innkeeper and offered to pay off his stay. The innkeeper stated that Lise had picked up his tab. When Duran exited the inn he bumped into a woman with long flowing violet hair. He would have stopped in his tracks if had seen more of her. He trudged slowly toward the main square and sat on a nearby bench. His mind began to split off in all directions. What was that dream about? Where was that crimson wizard now? Did Lise really have feelings for him? So much had been thrown at him he began to wonder if it was such a wise idea to embark on this quest. The thoughts began to overwhelm his mind; he had to look to something else. He turned his gaze on an unfortunate townsperson experiencing firsthand the terrors of Beastman brutality. As he watched the man get mauled something set in his mind. He had to do something about this; he had to press on in his quest. He reached toward his sheathes. They were both empty, he'd left his father's sword back at the inn. Dusk started creeping skywards as Duran rushed back to the inn. He opened the door. The innkeeper was off duty…good. He scampered down the hallway. It was the third door on the right. He slid the door open. It appeared to be vacant, but the room was very dimly lit so it was hard to tell. Then he saw what he was searching for. He crept closer; his target was in sight he just had to make it over to the dresser. He rotated his head slightly and his jaw dropped. A few strands of long violet hair draped over the side of the bed. There was somebody there. The mercenary couldn't let it get to him; he had to get that sword. He slinked closer and closer. An elegant head rose out of the sheets; a head which Duran could only dream of being closer to in any other situation. He was almost there. The fair maiden tossed slightly revealing her long slender arms. What he would have done to have those arms wrapped around him, especially after a hellish day like this. The swordless swordsman found it increasingly hard to avert his gaze, but he had to considering he was only three steps away. He made one more step. As his foot barely made contact with the floorboard the entire floor groaned. Out of all of the boards in this room he just had step on the loose one. The maiden's eyes snapped open. She let out a scream; Duran mirrored it, even embarrassingly matching the pitch. But then eyes her eyes shifted. Duran knew that look, those eyes meant death. He had to run, but his legs refused to follow his brain's command. Though part of his stiffness was due to fear for what was to come, the other part was that she had just revealed herself. She was easily wearing the tightest fitting gown that he had ever seen. It was if it was painted on top of her figure, and what a figure it was. She had the hourglass look going for her, complete with legs that he had to gaze not once, not twice, but three times before he could convince himself that they were real. Might it also be added that he had for the first time experienced the stopping power of a woman's cleavage. Duran was so caught up in the vixen's beauty that he failed to realize that she had fetched her staff.

THWACK.

"How DARE you gaze at a princess while she's sleeping!" Get the hell out of my room you perv!" She furiously shouted. Before the untimely swordsman had a chance to state his case her staff connected once again launching him out of the room. She quickly slammed the door afterwards.

"Damn, is everybody armed nowadays?" Duran muttered as he rubbed his cheek. Sure, he deserved it but was all that really necessary. But then it hit him; he still didn't have his father's sword. "Um… lady could I have my sword back please? He called to the vixen.

"What, you mean THIS!" she wailed as she tore the door open and sent his father's sword careening for his head. Duran didn't have time to duck the flying blade. Thank the goddess it was as dull as it was. The sword ricocheted off of his helm and sent both sword and swordsman to the floor. Recovering from the daze associated with having a heavy blunt object thrown at his head, Duran began dusting himself off. Things were getting a little too weird; he had to have a drink to settle his nerves slightly. He set a course for the pub. As he entered a bell chimed above drawing all the other patrons' eyes from their drinks to him. Everybody except for a rather familiar looking desert rat. He was too busy gazing over a blade that lay in front of him. It didn't it take long for the mercenary to realize that was his blade. He began to roll up his sleeves in an attempt to look more intimidating, even though he knew that if his face matched what was going through his mind at the moment it wouldn't be necessary. The thief tilted his head upward at the irate warrior.

"Oh, hello there." The thief said as amicably as possible.

"Where did you get that sword?" Duran asked forcefully. His fists were getting eager.

"You mean this? I bought it at the weapon shop the other day."The bandit stated calmly lightly moving his fingers over the blade. As the fingers touched the blade Duran could feel the rage welling up within him.

"Shove it you bloody thief! You stole that blade off of me and I'm going to give you a taste of the Hell I went through finding you." Duran roared at the swindler. The swindler kept on smiling.

"Hey now, don't be so hasty." The bandit said trying to restrain the bullish warrior. To little avail, as Duran's gauntlets started tearing through the air. He thought he could connect at least one of the punches. The guy was a sitting target literally, but as was so often the case recently, his fists completely missed their mark. As he stood there awkwardly in stunned silence his feet slipped up beneath him. He fell back on a chair that had suddenly came into existence behind him. The agile thief took his place on the other side of the table.

"Come on, I know you didn't come here for a fight. You came here for a drink didn't you?" the thief said with a prominent devil-may-care attitude as he signaled the bartender to bring over a round. Duran could only grunt in acceptance, he had feeling that this guy was really cheap, probably even cheaper than that drink that the barmaid was bringing over. "My apologies on that rough start, please allow me to introduce myself." The thief stated receiving a highly bewildered look from the swordsman on the other side of the table. "My name is Hawk, freelance conman and deserter of the Navarrian Thieves Guild."

"The Navarrian what?" Duran stuttered.

"The Navarrian Thieves Guild. You've never heard of them?" the bandit asked.

"Can't say that I have." Duran replied mulling over his past missions in his mind.

"Hmm, Flamekhan's keeping a low profile." Hawk muttered with that ever-present smirk still on his face.

"Yeah, that's just great and all but I want my sword back." Duran stated, his patience with the thief beginning to fail.

"Just waiting for you to bring that up." Hawk calmly replied as he pulled a deck of old playing cards out of his cloak. "I'll play you for it. To the victor goes the sword." Duran could only gape at the deserter. Was he daft, risking a prize that he had so meticulously stolen on a game of cards? Oh well his loss, Duran thought to himself even though the deeper parts of his mind reminded him of all those times that his little sister had managed to clean him out.

"I'm in. What are we playing?" Duran said praying for a round of Piquet.

"Desert Slots." Hawk smugly replied. He then started explaining the rules of the game. Both players would draw three cards from the deck. A short round of betting would occur and then both players would have the option of either swapping one of their cards for the top card on the deck. Another round of betting would occur. This process would repeat itself twice before both players would reveal their hands. Best hand would be A-A-A followed by K-K-K Q-Q-Q etc. If neither player matches three cards than the round and luc go to the highest card. The game is over when either player backs out or goes broke trying to save his own skin.

"Any way to guarantee that you won't cheat, thief?" Duran questioned making sure that he actually stood a chance after all.

"Don't worry about it, you can deal." Hawk grinned in his own patented disarming way. Duran took the deck and began shuffling it even though the thought briefly crossed him mind of him dealing his own doom. He dealt the cards alternately between them, just in case. He then glanced over his hand; Hawk did the same except that he merely lifted his cards with two fingers whilst the mercenary placed his cards directly in front of his face. These Navarrian cards were strange in the fact that the traditional suits were swapped with odd shapes like that of a scorpion or a dagger. Must have been the product of some shady deal between the guild and the printer. Not that Duran really knew or cared it just made the idea of matching up the suits just slightly more difficult. He didn't have a bad hand (3-3-9) but he just wished it could have been a little higher. He looked at his opponent, still smiling. Was this guy always happy? He didn't know but it made him almost impossible to read. Reaching into his winnings he pulled 15 luc and placed his bet. Hawk returned with 20. Now for the first draw, his palm sweated as he picked up the card. Flipping it over it revealed itself to be a King. Okay, he had two 3s and a King. That King wasn't a bad card, but should he attempt for another two kings or should just discard the king and try for another 3? Either way Duran bet 20 more luc on his hand. Hawk raised him 5. The next draw, Duran's palms sweated as he pulled out the next card; a 5. Dammit, not what he needed. Duran peeked over his cards. Hawk was paying more attention to the barmaid than to his hand. He threw 5 more luc into the pot. Again, Hawk raised him by 5. The last draw, this was it was the goddess on his side or not? Apparently not, the card showed a 2. Duran could not only sit back and wait solemnly for Hawk to reveal his hand. The conman's grin grew even wider when he displayed his 2-2-2. Duran, with some slight reservations, forked over the pot to the thief. He then vowed to not lose any more hands. This wasn't the case considering that over the span of a half hour he failed to win a single round. At times he considered flipping over the table, grabbing the sword and making a dash for the door. But then again there was always the thief's agility to worry about coupled with the fact that this may be his only chance to recover his beloved blade. However, as it was his bag of tournament winnings was only a shadow of it's former self. But how could he lose to a guy who hasn't even looked at his cards for the last five rounds? But then Duran finally got a chance to end this madness. The hand began like any other. Duran dealt and looked at his cards. (3-4-5) He submitted a meager amount of luc from his quickly diminishing wallet and Hawk raised it. Then the first draw came around. Duran picked up the card with little enthusiasm and noticed that it was a King. He threw another 10 coins into the pot and drew the next card. Another King met his eyes and Duran felt some long awaited excitement rise up within him. There might still be some hope left. But Duran couldn't let the thief know that so he threw in a few less luc. The last draw was imminent. As he picked up the last card he prayed. His prayers reached the goddess as the last King appeared in his hand. The mercenary felt a great urge to treat all the patron's to a drink but he did have another way to suppress that urge to win. He then with little warning to Hawk poured all of his remaining funds onto the table.

"I'm all in." Duran said cheerfully.

"Are you sure you want to go with that?" Hawk questioned dropping the oblivious routine and staring into Duran's soul with his amber eyes.

"Certain." Duran replied as he revealed his King-laden hand. "I'll be taking this back, thank you." He said as he reached for his sword.

"Can't say that I didn't warn you." Hawk said simply as he showed his three Aces. "Much obliged," he said as he quickly removed the last of Duran's tourney winnings from the table. After a few moments in shocked silence the mercenary slowly pushed his chair back into the table and trudged towards the door. He wanted to cry but knew that he couldn't in front of this sort of crowd. "Hey, you forgot something." Hawk called from the table. Duran turned his head around expecting the thief to throw his empty wallet at him, but the thief didn't throw anything. He merely pointed at his sword.

"What are you talking about? I lost the game." Duran muttered in yet another state of confusion.

"But what use would I have with a sword I can't even lift over my head?" Hawk hinted as he attempted to lift the unwieldy sword with little success. "Besides this piece of scrap metal is only worth 5 luc. Which is hardly worth bothering with whenever I can sleight 50,000 from just about anybody in a card game." Hawk replied retaining his sneer. But Hawk's comments didn't matter at all to the mercenary. He was finally reunited with his beloved and wanted to embrace it even though it may make him bleed. However, not in a crowded bar like this.

"You're heading for Wendel, right?" Hawk inquired even though he probably already knew the answer.

"Yes, why do you ask? Duran replied, again puzzled by the conman's odd ways.

"The Beastmen can't guard their posts at night. Their animal instincts get the better of them and they feel as if they have to wander. Just thought you oughta know." Hawk replied as he waved the swordsman off. Duran took his advice and resumed his quest. On his way out he couldn't help but notice a gigantic hole in the side of the weapon shop wall. So Kevin was no different, what a shame. He hoped that he wouldn't have to run into him considering that next time he might not be unarmed. But with his sword at his side he knew that someday he would be able to exact his revenge upon that blasted wizard.

Now a short response to reviewers:

Fetch-Thranduilion: Thank you for the review old friend. I'm looking forward to further chapters of Two Story Town. Did I fix that slight error this time around please let me know.

Chibigal4: Thanks, I will get to reviewing every single one of your fics once I've seen more of Yu-Gi-OH! I don't know who Mahaado is.

Fusionite: Yes, to put it simply Content Blockers suck. But I don't understand why it said intimate apparel. I don't think the mention of Chicks in Chainmail would set off. Maybe I should into the issue. Hmmm.

Anyway, looking for more reviews, and yes I accept flames and notices of OOCness. If there is any of that please let me know and seek divine intervention and attempt to correct the error. Until then ta ta.


	3. The Mysterious Light

Angel's Fear

Chapter III

The Mysterious Light

The old harbor bell chimed for the tenth time that evening and there wasn't a single beast soldier in sight. Maybe this Hawk guy was trustworthy after all, Duran mulled to himself. No, that couldn't be the case. That desert rat separated him from the only thing possible thing he could trust in this world, his blade. And then when he finally managed to track the thief down he got robbed again, this time his wallet. Or maybe his gambling skills were at fault for that one? Either way, this minor setback was not going to stop him. That bloody wizard was still out there somewhere and now the hunter had a lead. Without further hesitation the mercenary made his way to the gates. However, like most other walled in cities at this hour the drawbridge had been raised in an attempt to keep everything from the average lowly bandit to a grand army from entering. Funny, how it failed miserably in both of these aspects. Duran spied a large watchtower near the gate. If his assumptions were correct the mechanism for opening the gate would be somewhere up there. But a curse escaped his lips as he took notice of the only plausible route to the top of the tower, a very decrepit looking ladder. But even against the preaching of his inner conscience he began his climb up the watchtower. The ladder groaned with every step as the armor-laden warrior inched his way up. The gate mechanism looked badly worn, though he would he guessed it had been this way for a while, the beast army sure didn't help out its plight either. The mercenary grasped his hands onto the well worn handle and gently coaxed the rusty contraption into lowering the drawbridge for him. Then came the issue of getting back to the ground. That ladder didn't look very sturdy, and it barely survived the climb up here, which's to say whether or not it would last for the return trip. But he had no other option save climbing over the wall and jumping into the moat. So testing his luck once again he remounted the ladder. Halfway down the ladder his fears were realized. With little warning the ladder snapped sending the hapless mercenary plummeting towards the cobblestones of the street below him. Whenever he recovered from the shock of the impact he realized that he wasn't in quite as much pain as he originally expected. His armor was dented but that was the extent of it. Good old Forcenian armor, the best he'd ever known. It stood sounder than the watchtower which had become nothing more than a pile of rubble. Surprising though, that the entire city didn't wake up from the implosion of the tower, maybe they were just relishing the fact that they were able to sleep at all after the attack. But either way, the drawbridge was lowered.

The chilling night air greeted Duran as he tread over the drawbridge. But there was something else that was making the hairs on his neck bristle. Something was out there… in those woods that lay before him. He allowed his gauntlets to drift over his sheathe as he crept forward. Just then a howl broke the silence. Duran's eyes darted across the forest's edge for any sign of the beast. He vision focused on two pairs of wolfen eyes staring right back at him, daring him to take one more step. He grasped the hilt of his sword in preparation. Before he could draw the blade, the wolves leapt from the forest and rushed towards the mercenary, fangs bared. The beasts were much swifter than him, grazing the side of his armor with their claws on their first pass. If Duran hadn't sidestepped at the last moment it would have been much worse, those claws seemed almost unnaturally sharp. Taking the only spare moment he had, he drew his sword. His teeth gritted, he stood his ground. There was no other option. The wolves seemed to pivot in midair before they recoiled back towards Duran. The larger of the two wolves leapt forward its claws fully extended. In that one brief moment Duran saw an opening. With a powerful slice he seared the wolf in two. He also managed to bring the sword down just in time to have the other wolf biting his blade in place of his leg. Its fangs failed to pierce the blade, but its jaws were still clamped tightly to the weapon. Duran shot the wolf a look of pure disgust as it hung on his blade. If the wolf really did want a taste of pure steel he would let it have it. With a sharp tug he dislodged the sword from the wolf's mouth shattering its jaw in the process. Turning away from the scene he let out a small chuckle, it felt good to use his sword arm once again. It wasn't as he had feared at all, he still had the same power that he had back in Forcena, in fact he was almost certain that he grown stronger considering how quickly he dispatched the wolves. Still intoxicated by the spirit of battle, he lifted the one weapon he knew that would defeat that crimson mage. The blade was slathered with blood. Duran had seen blood on many occasions; he was a mercenary after all. But as he stared at blood running slowly off of the sword he noticed that it couldn't possibly be the blood of an animal, it was the blood of a man. But that couldn't be, he had just killed two wolves, it didn't make sense. Panicking slightly he returned to the bodies of the wolves. The collars around their necks were the same collars he had seen on the members of the beast army. Just then, the savage truth of his quest hit him square in the face. Continuing on this quest meant taking lives, he only truly intended to take one life, that of the damned wizard but now that was impossible. It truly was a very heavy thought, but it couldn't stop him he had to continue. In an attempt to cleanse his mind of this whole affair he dipped his sword into the moat and watched as the crimson washed away into the tide.

At least an hour had passed since Duran crossed out of Jad into the neighboring forest, and already he was feeling lost. He knew that if he just headed south he would eventually find some small village where he could ask for directions to Wendel. But which way was south? He knew ever since he left Forcena that leaving his compass behind in favor of that extra bottle of sword polish was going to come back to haunt him someday, but he had no idea how soon… and to make things even worse every step he made required more and more effort. Fatigue was setting in quickly. Every single heave of his shoulders as he ambled along made him feel as if he was being crushed by his armor. At this point he could easily have established a new grudge against anyone who ever said anything to the contrary. Adding even further to the frustration, his stomach was becoming mutinous. But it had its reasons; the mercenary hadn't had anything since he had gotten off the ship, besides those drinks at the pub. The rebellion had already started and his stomach would not stop rumbling until he found something to appease it. Duran clutched his stomach in response to his hunger pains and plodded forward his eyes darting around the landscape, desperately searching for anything remotely edible. Fortunately, for Duran this ravenous hunger helped him spot a small nearby patch of mushrooms. His vision narrowed and his fatigue lifted as he rushed headlong towards the fungi. Wasting little time, he picked one of the mushrooms and craned it towards his mouth. But as he was about to devour the piece of fungi, a strange scent passed his nostrils. Gunpowder? Was he really that far gone that his olfactory senses would be playing tricks on him. But still it was enough for him to afford a second glance at the toadstool. It seemed nothing more than an average mushroom, with the possible exception of two glowing eyespots under the cap. Was it just his imagination or did those glowing spots just flash? Yes, they did and it was beginning to seem as if it was blinking a little bit faster with each passing second. And why did it start suddenly feeling warm within his grasp? When he finally realized what exactly he was holding in his hand it was too late. The mushroom exploded with the same force as one of the mage's fireballs. As he sailed through the air, his new friend, unconsciousness, coming to greet him; he found the perfect name for the exploding shroom. In his mind it would be known as the Mushboom.

He awoke from his mushroom induced trauma a few hours later. He had gotten the sleep he had desired though the method was not quite what he had expected. But when he opened his eyes he began to wonder if he was still dreaming. When Duran woke he found that his body was covered in multi-colored spherical and possibly fuzzy objects. His body also seemed to be racked with pain. But these spheres couldn't possibly be cause of these aches, he was still hungry after all. Maybe he had possibly transcended into the Mana Holyland, nah that couldn't be the case. He was still surrounded by the dark foreboding forest. Or maybe he had inhaled one of the Mushboom's spores. Nonetheless, there was something about these objects which drew the mercenary's eyes to them. Even though it would be considered sacrilege for any man to think, the mercenary almost considered these things to be cute. Then one of the spheres began to separate itself from his body. Within moments he could make out ears and a fuzzy tuft of a tail on the creature. It seemed to be some breed of rabbit. But then it turned to face Duran, revealing its little secret. The rabbit's mouth was stretched wide to house an awkwardly large set of dagger like fangs. Every single one of the fangs dripped with blood. Duran's eyes bulged slightly in shock as he eyed the deceptive creature. Panicking, he shot up and shook himself vigorously sending all the hostile, but cuddly rabbits flying in various directions. The mercenary attempted to draw his sword in case of the killer rabbits' appetites not being fully appeased. However, he found this to be a very difficult task; the creatures' fangs had penetrated his quilted leather sleeves. Might it also be added that his stomach hadn't forgiven him yet for his ineptness at providing nourishment. However, these urges helped call forth a rather simple but true formula to Duran's mind.

Killer Rabbits equals Animal equals Meat, which therefore, equals FOOD!

Dropping any physical handicaps, he thrust himself into the situation that his relatively simple mind had conjured before him. He had one mission: to slay every single one of these vile creatures, regardless of how much his heart ached as his sword tore through their soft, colorful fur. The spherical beasts fell one after the other, several being shiskabobbed on Duran's blade. A few moments later his mind recovered from his ravenous rage enough to consider the possibility of cooking the little beasts. Despite his hunger, he was still beyond the notion of sinking his teeth into raw flesh. He browsed through his sack in the hopes of finding some flint. However, that as well had been lost in the shuffle of sword care products. But luckily enough, he had heard of another method of acquiring a campfire. He quickly snatched the two closest twigs he could find. He had heard rumors that soldiers during the battle of Dragon's Hole where successful in heating their encampments without the use of flint. Instead, there were able to use their landscape to their advantage. Now if only he could just rub those two sticks together just fast enough for them to ignite… and if only the sticks wouldn't keep shattering within his grasp. At least 15 minutes and 20 broken twigs later he managed to produce a small spark. This fortunately was just enough to produce a suitable blaze. A campfire roaring behind him, he turned to his recently deceased prey. There wasn't any possible way he would be able to eat the creature with those unwieldy jaws, and the idea of roasted fur did not seem at all palatable. His teeth gritted, he began the brutal but necessary work of carving the hides off of the killer rabbits. On a whim, he decided to toss their pelts into his sack. Now, how to prepare the little beasts. Considering his current circumstances there was only one option. Duran grasped yet another stick and impaled one of the shaved rabbits upon it. From here he held over the fire until its pale white skin turned to a tender golden brown. It wasn't the most appetizing meal he had ever eaten, but it at least managed to quell his voracious appetite slightly. To be completely honest, they had an awful aftertaste.

His stomach full from the toasted rabbits, Duran took a few moments to relax by his bonfire. The heat soothed his aching joints and the flames danced before his eyes. However, his moment of solace didn't last long. A small spurt of embers flitted out of the fire and landed on what appeared to be a somewhat short and sparsely covered tree. Duran however failed to notice until it got to the point where the smoke was choking him from behind. Gagging from the fumes, he turned to find the tree completely engulfed in flame. He briefly considered letting the tree smolder away, catching the entire forest in its wildfire and putting a severe dent in the population of those ghastly rabbits. This notion was quickly shot down when he realized that he also would be trapped in the fire, where he also would become tinder. With a new sense of urgency, he pulled his canteen out of his sack and doused the flame. The blaze was immediately reduced to ashes and steam. On the other hand though, he had just used the last of his water ration. He gave the tree a second glance; the tree hardly looked like a tree anymore. It seemed to be a little bit too flat. Duran waved his gauntleted hand over the supposed tree brushing away the remaining soot. As he swept the ashes away he felt grooves cut deep into the wood. Stepping back he deciphered the message on the signpost which simply stated:

Lakeside Village Astoria, 5 miles, South.

Duran stared at the sign with a slight sense of deliverance rising within him. It was just what he needed, a chance for a nice warm bed and a well cooked meal. This was almost too good to be true. Bah, knowing his luck it probably was. The forest could possibly be driving him mad, this signpost merely a delusion concocted by his revenge-driven psyche. To attempt to confirm this he shook the post vigorously, his vibration test concluded that the signpost was indeed, a signpost. But for some reason, this trial wasn't nearly enough to convince him, so his mind devoid of any trace of rational thought, bidded him to perform another test. This time to prove the authenticity of this guidepost he drove his helmeted head right through it. This time there was no denying the sign's authenticity. The cranial shock and the oaken collar he now wore around the nape of his armor was enough proof.

After a thankfully uneventful five miles of ambling southward, Duran reached the village of Astoria. He was expecting the village to be merely a quiet little community where he could stop at the inn, possibly have a nice meal and then move onto Wendel without any further setbacks. However there was something unsettling about this town, the silence which surrounded him seemed to be forced in some way. As his hand impulsively hovered over his sword once again, a man with a tightly wrapped turban on his head emerged from one of the small shops along the side of the causeway. Duran instantly recognized the man's attire as that of a merchant, but what would a merchant possibly be doing wandering the streets like this? But before Duran had a chance to find out for himself the merchant caught sight of him.

"Aha, do my eyes deceive me? You sir, are you not a traveler?" the merchant inquired as he quite literally danced his way towards the exhausted swordsman. Before Duran even had a chance to answer, the merchant made the international tradesman signal for big spender off into the distance. "You appear to be in need of some supplies. Allow me to be of service." The merchant stated cordially as he seized Duran by the arm and began to forcefully escort him into the town square.

"Hey, um… why are you….?" Duran attempted to inquire.

"Why, you ask? My dear sir a goddess has descended upon this town and she bequeathed me with a simple message. That message was sell, sell, sell. Of course with these goddess given prices any traveler would gladly part a mere donation from his wallet, in exchange for these extravagant accessories." By the time the merchant had made his pitch they had reached the marketplace. Surrounding him several other merchants had fabricated a makeshift marketplace, complete with shabbily erected stands which threatened to collapse from the burden of their wares. Some of the merchants even went to the trouble of carving up a few villager-esque mannequins to create the illusion of business. "Now if you would look to your left sir…. Oh wait, may I ask what is your name, O valued consumer?" The merchant whirled around, his hands rubbing themselves together with eager greed.

"It's Duran, but I'm a little short…." He was cut off again.

"Lovely, now Sir Duran if you would turn to your left we are offering our highest quality weapons, guaranteed sharp, for an unbelievable 75 off. Duran's eyes lit up as they skimmed over the blades, yet they quickly dulled back to their normal shade upon further scrutiny. The merchants had attempted to lure him in with the illusion of overtly shiny blades, fashioned with handles made of pyrite. A connoisseur of swords such as himself would never fall for….. Wait a second was that the claymore he wanted? Yes, hanging precariously yet proudly on a long chain was the claymore that he desired from his swordsman catalogue, and it was 75 off.

"I'd like to make…." Cut off yet again.

"Now if you'd follow me in this general direction you'll find our armor section. Whatever you're looking for, tanned leather armor, top grade chain mail, or even polished plate armor, we've got it right here. If you act now you'll even have a chance to partake in our special offer, for a limited time only you can get the piece of your choice engraved with a commemerative saying in memorial to the goddess's arrival in our fair town free of charge." As the merchant stated this last bit of his pitch he pointed to a large shield which had been embossed with gleaming crimson letters which read: I SAW THE LIGHT!

"Hhrmm…. Excuse me, I would like…" Duran failed once again to get the merchant's attention.

"And over here we have Astoria's finest home brewed ale. Guaranteed to have you out harassing or embarrassing the neighbors within five sips. Now for only 10 luc a tankard. But if that's enough to quench your thirst, we have honey drink for only 20 luc. Need I mention just how convenient these little vials are?" The merchant pitched onward showing no signs of coming to the end of his little rant. He'd made his choice there was no reason for him to continue listening to this peddler ramble on and on about his second rate goods. He had to take a stand.

"MY DEAR SIR, I HAVE SEEN ENOUGH!" Duran barked out in a tone which would have made his drill instructor leap out of his breastplate. For the first time that evening the merchant actually heard his client.

"My apologies, Sir Duran, what will ye be wanting then." The merchant replied resuming his greedy hand ritual. His mind set on his purchase, the mercenary pointed his gauntleted finger. "You would like the entire weapon stall sir? A fine choice but how are you going to carry it all?" the merchant asked.

"Not the stand, I would like **that**." Duran stated as his eyes stared hopefully at the claymore.

"You mean this, good sir. I didn't think this was your style." The merchant inquired as he pulled an oversized as well as overly adorned spear out from behind the stand.

"Not that…. A little bit to the left." The mercenary corrected.

"Well, I fail to see what need you would have for this, but if you insist." The merchant commented as he fetched a pocket knife from the table.

"I'll just have the claymore." Duran groaned giving in, he would have had other choice words for this peddler but the unfortunate memories of Aunt Stella's surprisingly rigid hand across his face, was enough incentive for him to remain quiet.

"A wise choice Sir Duran but are you sure you can handle it?" The peddler asked between grunts as he removed the claymore from the stand.

"Yeah, I can handle it…"Duran spoke smugly as he lifted the claymore over his shoulder making it look as if the sword weighed nothing at all. However he would never admit that his arm felt like it might collapse. "You were saying."

"Now about the payment good sir…" the merchant slithered off his tongue as he removed an abacus from his robes.

"I have it right here." The mercenary replied knowing that he was moments away from being bestowed with a truly knightly sword. The wallet slipped out with no resistance whatsoever.

"That will be 200 luc Sir Duran…" The merchant said as he hovered over Duran's wallet poised for payment. The merchant's eyes squinted in preparation for the glow of the coins, however the golden gleam that he had anticipated did not reside within that wallet, only dust and lint remained.

"You… You…You're broke!" the merchant stammered most likely enraged by the fact that he had wasted a sales pitch he'd spent four hours that morning trying to memorize on this vagrant. Duran was feeling similarly enraged, had his lust for oversized shiny swords caused him to forget his current state and mission? That was most likely the case.

"Alright, pack it up. There's always tomorrow." The merchant ordered dejectedly towards the other merchants whom with a few swift kicks successfully dismantled each of their stands. "I'll have that back now sir." The merchant stated as he wrenched the claymore from Duran's grasp and clumsily flung it back onto the stand. The stand however did not survive the impact. As the merchants set about to tidy up the town square, Duran decided that it would be best to leave them to their work. While checking the next block to make sure he wouldn't be ambushed again he spotted a sign hanging above the street corner. The sign was inscripted with three letters that he wished to see; I, N, and N. But as he drew himself up the stairs of the inn he took a moment to consider his situation. If he couldn't afford that claymore how was he supposed to pay off his stay at the inn? Finding it best to not dwell on his lack of funds he reached the top of the steps. Maybe if he got lucky he might be able to sleep in the dog kennel.

"Greetings, have you any interest in a room?" The innkeeper inquired as Duran stepped up to the counter.

"Yes, I'd like to stay but do you accept anything besides luc?" Duran inquired.

"Humph… another vagrant eh?" the innkeeper grunted from beneath his moustache. Before the innkeeper could even answer the mercenary began rummaging through his sack in the hopes of finding something he could pawn. In his haste one of the rabbit pelts landed on the counter.

"Blimey… could it be?" the innkeeper replied in shock as he took notice of the saliently jawed carcass lying there. "Is that a rabite pelt, sir?"

"Rabite?" Duran asked confoundedly. Was that really what they called those ferocious beasts, how fitting.

"Yes rabites, whole bloomin forest is named after em. Never thought I'd see one like this." The innkeeper replied losing that obviously fake business tone. "Anychance I can buy that off yeh?

"Yeah, only if you take all these too." Duran stated as he poured at least fifteen more rabite carcasses onto the table.

"Amazin, you killed all those. You can rest here for as long as you like." The innkeeper declared his eyes glowing towards his guest and the pile of pelts in front of him.

"Thanks, but why would you want these pelts?" Duran wondered aloud.

"Cousin Artie had his arm chewed clean off by those beasts, jus my way of getting revenge is all; thought they'd look good on the mantle." The innkeeper explained.

"Yeah, sure they would…." Duran trailed off.

"What's yer name stranger? I can't just let a guy like you have a room without askin that." Stated the innkeeper.

"It's Duran... I'm a mercenary from Forcena." He replied simply.

"Forcena huh, what brings ya out to these parts? The innkeeper asked.

"I heard a rumor that there's a priest in Wendel who can make me really tough." Duran stated.

"Why would ya need it? Yer pretty tough as it is." The innkeeper replied honestly.

"I am seeking a man in a red cloak, when I last fought him I couldn't lay a finger on him. I cannot rest until he is lying in his grave." Duran stated, his eyes reminiscing coldly. "Just wondering do you know anything about those lights the merchants outside were going on about?" Duran asked returning to a normal tone.

"Oh, those damned merchants, yeah they've been carrying on this little rumor about how these lights we've been havin over our lake lately is the goddess sendin down a messenger. They aren't the only ones sayin that either. Old lady downstairs won't stop sayin that's it's a sign of some kind of disaster. It's just a bunch of bull though, I'm keepin this inn open lights or no lights." The innkeeper said with a surprising vigor. "Now then do you want to meet my cousin Artie?" asked the innkeeper.

"Uhm… it's not necessary…" Duran replied.

"Oh, it's nothing at all. Come on out Art." The innkeeper chuckled. A few moments a tall man with a stump for a right arm appeared around the corner. "Say hello to Artie, he'll be your chef this evening." Said the innkeeper as he beamed.

"My chef? Uh……" Duran stammered as he stared the remains of Artie's arm perplexed at how the man could possibly cook anything.

But the one-armed man could whip up some incredible cuisine as well as provide quite a show in the process. Somehow Artie had meticulously managed to condition his right foot to serve as his right arm. His hunger thoroughly satisfied by the evening meal he drifted to his room. The bed greeted him openly as strode into his room. Duran accepted its offer not even bothering to take off his armor before collapsing atop it.

Meanwhile while Duran rested peacefully, a small glimmering light emanated over the lake nearby and for the first time that week the light took its leave from its temporary residence and flitted over to the adjacent town. As it flew it flickered past various windows seeming as if it were peering into them, searching desperately for some lost artifact. As it floated by the inn's window it shattered the nocturnal shadows within with its unnatural light. It also found a way to permeate into Duran's dream.

"But Auntie… I don't want to train today." Duran murmured as his dreams represented him with the memory of Stella opening the curtains in his room letting the sunlight envelop him, forcing him to wake up. His eyes cracked open to see the odd, almost emerald shaded light filter through his window. For a brief moment his mind considered the possibility that this was merely a continuation of his dream but his instincts were saying otherwise. With a sudden rush of energy coursing through him the mercenary bolted to the window, just in time to catch the luminary floating towards the forest. Hastily snatching his equipment he dashed out of the inn. He paid no heed to anything as he fled, the inn's front door was knocked off its hinges as he barged through it .The stairs were entirely forgotten as he leapt straight from the deck onto the earth below. Doggedly, he tailed the light through the forest, though he had no idea why. Was this what they called destiny? His feet seemed to be guided forward by some unknown force, a force which knew no fatigue. His armor felt weightless, his chief concern was only that of the emerald light which hovered before him. There very well could have been a hundred rabites nipping at his heels, it wouldn't have slowed him. "What is this light?" he asked himself countless times as he sprinted forward. Just as Duran considered his final answer the light disappeared through an overgrown hedge. Not bothering to slow down in the slightest, the mercenary raised his sword and hacked through the hedge whilst still in mid-run.

What awaited him beyond the hedge was a clearing filled with moonlit flowers, adjacent to which lay Astoria Lake. The emerald light gently tumbled into the flowers letting its glow subside. Duran wasn't far behind as he stooped over the patch where the glow diminished. Carefully brushing aside the grass with his gauntlets, his eyes focused upon a sight that could only be conjured from the heavens. There was an incredibly tiny woman resting peacefully on the petals of a sterling rose. But wait, this woman had small iridescent wings, could she possibly be a fairy? No it couldn't be… such creatures only existed in stories told by his aunt, if they lived at all they would be beings from the holyland. Yet somehow here she laid, her breaths slowly dwindling with each passing second. As he gazed transfixed at this minute being something snapped within Duran's mind. If he let this creature die now, he would be killing a manifestation of his own destiny, it had to be…. Right? It was just so unusual that their had to be some form of otherworldly message to this. With great care he gently tilted the leaf downward allowing the fairy to tumble into his palm. He could feel her plodding heartbeat against his skin as it continued to drift down towards nothingness.

"Hey come on, don't die on me now. Pull yourself together!" He called out to the fairy. Somehow, despite how unorthodox and simplistic his way of phrasing it was, his message reached the fairy. Miraculously he could feel her heart return to a steady rhythmic pulse. Her almost microscopic limbs began to squirm in his hands as she tried desperately to stand. Her eyelids quivered open revealing two sapphire-like pupils that were just as blue as the gown she wore. With a quick shove she righted herself, only to fall back to her knees again in shock at the sight of her savior.

"Who might you be? What land are you from?" The fairy questioned shaking at the sight of this giant who was grasping her.

"Oh, my name's Duran. I'm a warrior from Forcena." He answered simply.

"Why thank you sir… Duran." The fairy replied, as she dusted herself off. She swiveled around in his hand taking in her surroundings. It seemed much like the Holyland to her, in fact these flowers wouldn't be out of place at all up there. But has her thoughts began to rest with her homeland a sudden chill shot through her. She remembered why she had arrived here. She spun around and faced her gigantic caretaker and sent him a piercing glance, perhaps he might be the one…

"I don't have much choice in the matter now… I guess you'll do." The fairy stated smirking back at her captor.

"What?"

"Oh, I mean could you please take me to Wendel? I must talk to the Priest of Light." The fairy implored.

"That's no problem, I was heading there myself. But why would you need to see the priest?"

"The fate of the Mana Holyland is looking dire, if anyone must know it should be him." The fairy spoke quivering at the thought of her homeland.

"The Holyland… You mean you're from…" as he said this an explosion sounded far off in the distance. Within moments the crystal clear waters of Lake Astoria glimmered red as a great blaze burned in the distance. With the fairy still in his palm he sprinted to the water's edge. That fire was at just the right distance and direction to be…

"Can you fly fairy?" Duran posed.

"My wings have suffered through my journey, but I may be able to rest in your head for a moment." The fairy replied.

"In my….head?" Duran stumbled over this concept as would have just about any other man. However he had no time to protest.

"Fine then, but how…" Before the swordsman was able to finish this comment he was bathed in an unnaturally brilliant gold light. Showered in this golden aura he was stupefied, only able to stare silently as the fairy faded into a shadow. From that point he was only treated to a brief image of her and a few sparks as she launched herself headlong into his cranium, leaving only a sensation not unlike being splashed with honey drink.

"Alright then, let's be off, shall we?" echoed a feminine voice.

"Wha…. Where'd that voice come from!" Duran stammered.

"Up here." The fairy stated.

"Up where?" was Duran's reply. Just then he sensed an odd thump as the fairy pratfell.

"Allow me to state this once again; I'm currently taking up residence within your mind. If you hear any voices they will be me. Now let's go, there may still be time." The fairy stated urgently.

"Yes ma'am." Duran complied. With similar haste to which he had entering the clearing he departed it. He sprinted through the forest paths, his mind so focused on vengeance that he managed to drown out the fairy's comments as to how roomy his cranium appeared. It didn't take him long to arrive at the burning gates of Astoria.

He had never seen a blaze of this magnitude before, flames curled into the sky spurting embers all around him. The plaza had become a funeral pyre stacked with the bodies of merchants. There were only ashes remaining where the inn once stood. Desperate thoughts rushing through his already taxed mind, he dove headlong into the inn's flames in the hopes that maybe somebody had survived this massacre. Ignoring the pain as burning rubble scorched the leather of his gauntlets; he dug through the debris in a frenzy. His efforts were all for naught, the fire had already consumed the innkeeper and Artie, stealing their flesh and leaving only their bones in a smoldering tomb which reeked of roasted rabites. Turning away from the corpses he pulled his sword from it's sheathe and plunged it into the scorched earth beside him.

"Those sub-human bastards… How could they?" Duran growled.

"There's nothing you can do for them now, Duran we must press on to Wendel." The fairy asserted as comfortingly as she could. A solitary tear rolling down his cheek, Duran clutched the sword by its hilt and ripped it from the soil. The flame's reflection on that filthy blade would burn on forever in his memory.

"Such righteous fury, perhaps he is the true Mana knight after all." Pondered the fairy aloud as she rested on her cranial throne. "Perhaps…."

Author Notes: This chapter took entirely too long to finish, and yet I have nobody to blame but myself. I've had a really hectic schedule these past couple months now... In fact it may have been one of the worst years of my life, as my grandmother passed away last November. In fact I dedicate this chapter to her memory. Also to clarify, the equation was originally an equation, complete with equal signs and everything, however the editor does not believe in such mathematical terms. ugh...

For all those who reviewed: I thank you and I will respond to you shortly. Hopefully this next chapter will be up slightly more expediently. I will accept all forms of review, be it praise, flame, or completely random statements.


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